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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910324">Solarbloom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rekenemee/pseuds/rekenemee'>rekenemee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Uta no Prince-sama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Drama CD: Lycoris no Mori | Forest of Lycoris, Found Family, I actually know nothing about flowers, M/M, background holiday celebrations</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 13:55:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rekenemee/pseuds/rekenemee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In this lifetime, Randolph strays the path.<br/>In this lifetime, they try again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blood/Randolph, Ichinose Tokiya/Ittoki Otoya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Solarbloom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Alternate lifetime RanBlood uses their Utapri counterpart names, but their personalities and story are still based on Lycoris no Mori (eg. “Ren” is still Victor, “Ranmaru” is still Todd, etc.) Sorry if that’s confusing, I just thought it would be strange for them to reuse their past names and for me to make up random names for them.</p><p><b>Content Warning:</b> Canon major character death(s), and mention of family/sibling death. Descriptions of mortality/dying, blood and getting stabbed — but it’s not much worse than the official storybook, or at least I don’t think so. Brief mention of negative experiences with the foster care system. Implied unhealthy guardian-ward dynamics. POV line of thinking that indicates history of depression. A character is mentioned to have an unspecified illness/disability, and another character makes an ableist comment about it. And then no actual homophobia, but implications that a gay character is hyper-aware of how other people see their relationship. Also, descriptions get suggestive towards the end, but it’s all vague enough to be rated T.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     The last time Randolph felt this alive was under the blanketing night sky, stretched further than his small existence can ever wish to comprehend.</p><p>     The sea of stars had made itself known after the fateful pouring rain, speckled above like millions of glowing ships lighting the way after a sea storm. Coming from nowhere, voyaging to nowhere. <em>Eternally,</em> he used to think, solemnly. <em>But also peacefully,</em> his newer self had eventually allowed him to believe, a miraculous mindset then.</p><p>     Randolph hoped the ships will one day carry him along with them, if he will ever come to deserve it.</p><p>     He could point out the formation of Orion amongst them, the one that was always calling to him. Like a parent seeking out their lost child.</p><p>     That night, a huffed laughter of amusement observed Orion in his place.</p><p>     There was a warm hand in his. </p><p>     He shuddered then — for once not because of the cold weather dew clinging to the strands of his long-untouched fur — but because of the all-consuming shared warmth he thought he’d never come to know. The prickling sensation of skin contact beyond his wildest dreams. The aching loneliness that had long numbed itself over the years is felt now, in tidal waves, at the realization that the elusive presence of companionship was right there next to him. So close yet so far.</p><p>     The boy with hair and eyes of red spider lilies — the one who had not feared him — came to lull himself to sleep under the watchful gaze of Orion, and Randolph couldn’t pry his eyes away from him.</p><p>     He had felt alive then, he had felt wishful. His hope as gentle as the simmering graze of moonlight across ripples on the ocean he will never see.</p><p>     The next and final time Randolph felt alive was in the tragically loving embrace of that very same person. </p><p>     His senses were on fire, his body never more awake. Every cell, every fibre of his being were screaming at the blade making itself home in his chest.</p><p>     And yet, despite their chaos, Randolph had never felt so focused. Focused on those glassy eyes that bore into him all the while. Those fierce orbs that flickered red, red like the light of the setting sun that drowned their surroundings in crimson waters, engulfing everything in its color. Unconditionally. Mercilessly.</p><p>
  <em>     …Did you know? That a lycoris’ flower and leaf do not meet. While the flower is in bloom, its leaves are concealed. When the flower wilts, the leaves start to bud. They can’t exist at the same time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     ...They’re just like us, aren’t they?</em>
</p><p>     One of them had to go.</p><p>     He had simply accepted that he’d rather it be him.</p><p>     Blood and Randolph found themselves entangled in the sea of red spider lilies. </p><p>     Randolph’s last hope was for the still, crimson current to come alive and carry him away, the way only the sailing stars could.</p><p> </p><p>♦ ♦ ♦</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Solarbloom</strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>     The universe wasn’t done with him.</p><p>     The universe will never be done with him, it seems.</p><p>     Yet another bleak winter afternoon was dawning.</p><p>     Tokiya needn’t step outside to imagine how the chilling wind of early December would feel against his shuddering skin, the outer layer of his jacket seeping with lingering cold from just an hour ago serving finely as a reminder. </p><p>     “Don’t forget to grab the candles,” Ai called out, attention trained on a particular patch of dirt stuck onto a corner of the living room, the discounted defective vacuum he was so proud of owning revving furiously in his hand. “And a lighter. The one in the drawer is probably out.”</p><p>     “Sure,” Tokiya said. He patted down every pocket in his jacket and pants compulsively for his wallet, phone and grocery list by the time his boots were slipped on.</p><p>     “Alright. Thanks for making yourself useful,” Ai said, then in a slightly louder, accusatory tone, “Did you hear that, Natsuki? Tokiya’s doing something, what a gentleman. We can <em>all</em> learn from him.”</p><p>     Their roommate drawled from his position under the kotatsu, voice hoarse with recent sleep (despite Ai’s warnings not to sleep under one for a prolonged time, due to the alleged health risks. Tokiya wasn’t sure how much of that was actually true). “I signed up for frying oil duty, didn’t I? I can’t be doing <em>everything</em> in this house.”</p><p>     “Technically, I do everything in this house,” Ai sighed, as if he didn’t need to ask for Tokiya’s help everytime a lightbulb had to be replaced, or to lift the boxes in the storage this morning so they could fetch the hanukkiah from amongst the cluster of items they have yet to unpack. They moved into this place back at the beginning of the year, and it had been an unspoken passive-aggressive endurance test between the three to see who would give in and traverse all the unopened moving boxes on their own. Tokiya believed that at this point they may just perpetually live like this; grabbing the one thing they were looking for and ditching the rest over and over until it cumulatively undone itself.</p><p>     “Besides. Even a ten year old knows how to lower food into oil.”</p><p>     “Oh? Well good for them. Look, can you just be nice to the guy working graveyard shift during the holidays?”</p><p>     “I’m off,” Tokiya scoffed, exiting before he had to be subjected as witness to another round of bickering. Ai was always the fussier one — one of them had to be — and even though Natsuki had took on the role of the carefree one, with a cheeky streak at best, Tokiya suspected he actually relished in letting off some steam through these debates after hours of forced customer service politeness. And Ai might be the same way, now that he thought about it. Nonetheless, it was a troublesome symbiosis he wanted no part of.</p><p>     As much as he’d shake his head in exasperated defeat, it was not like Tokiya would ever blame them for their strange coping mechanisms. Even if that included Natsuki’s gacha game addiction that just barely stayed within his budget, or Ai’s tendency to salivate over whatever overpriced, ultimately pointless decorative trinket he caught at a store window for too long until it was time to reluctantly let go, sighing heavily for the rest of the week.</p><p>     Indeed; Tokiya could not bring himself to blame them for anything at all, considering the lives they’ve led. Working class purgatory aside; silly material interests were not a freedom granted easily during their time in foster, and self-expression were even harder to come by during their time living with Ranmaru.</p><p>     ...They’ve all taken it hard when they cut him off. </p><p>     In hindsight, they could have chosen to live continuously like that — maybe it was what some consider “more sustainable,” even. Three young men equipped with zero relevant life skills, clumsily heading off on their own away from the financial dependency they’ve latched onto for so long, from the man who took them under his wing when they were just about to be set free into the wild without directions. But to call it a change for the better was far-fetched, and in the end it was Ai and Natsuki who helped Tokiya take the plunge to leave it all behind, Ranmaru with it.</p><p>     The change was difficult but necessary. </p><p>     And Tokiya wouldn’t admit it outright, but the separation had affected him the most of all, even with the years that had passed.  Ranmaru’s tutelage was the first stable thing in his brittle, unpredictable life made up of transferring from one foster care institution to another, for whatever latest act of juvenile deviance he’d done for attention. The man, despite being merely a few years older, was the only glimpse of solid guardianship Tokiya had ever known, and probably ever will. To his younger self, his history of less-than-honest jobs in following Ranmaru’s footsteps had been a small price to pay.</p><p>     If it weren’t for the other two, he wouldn’t have taken the leap on his own, so settled with the unideal yet “easy” life that was laid out in front of him. What he owed Ai and Natsuki was a life debt.</p><p>     So all Tokiya could do now is shoulder his share of the burden without complaint; when Ai would be shaking close to tears because he couldn’t figure out why the washer wasn’t working, and that they might need to call a repairman; or when Natsuki would be arriving home in the morning after his shift, choking out in delirious laughter, “I’m going to be working ‘til the day I die.” </p><p>     Someone had to be the undeterred rock.</p><p>     Tokiya went down the stairs of their two-storey apartment at a languid pace, taking his sweet time before walking through the alley street, past comfortably humble homes and vending machines and a small ramen shop in the corner, then out into the bigger road of their residential area just outside of city center. The local grocery he was heading to took at most an eight-minute walk, and it was really the only other place in the neighborhood he ever felt the need to go to besides the station for work. </p><p>     He sighed in relief at the warmer air of the sparsely crowded store, courteously bowing his head at neighbors he recognized but never actually talked to, and mulled over his grocery list. Candles, a lighter, potatoes, onions, and eggs filled his shopping basket in no time, although Tokiya hesitated on placing the sour cream in. That’s surely another Ai and Natsuki debate on the horizon, for whether or not it goes on latkes, but he suppose he would just have to brace for it.</p><p>     Tokiya placed Ai’s favorite snack in as well even though it wasn’t on the list, knowing the younger man always felt bad for indulging unless somebody else bought it first — and then stocked on pocket warmers, since Natsuki hated going outside to do his share of house errands unless he had some on him. Of course, Tokiya still volunteered to do most of them anyway, finding the mundane routine a safe repetition at worst. It also allowed more time for his friend to either wallow, or take it easy with himself — but that is another family discussion for another time.</p><p>     Those two goons deserve something nice for the holidays, Tokiya thought as he waited for his cashier to ring up his items. More than just his own share of this year’s gelt or joke shoulder massages that borders on unpleasant.</p><p>     Stepping back into the sobering cold air, shop entry sensor beeping behind him, he considered his surrounding options as he walked. There were a variety of stores surrounding the station; he knew at the very least that Ai would be content with anything remotely aesthetically pleasing, and it shouldn’t be too hard to find some random mass-produced goods with Natsuki’s favorite series slapped on in one of the gift shops.</p><p>     But would that be good enough? Tokiya doubted those two would be expecting something special or sentimental from him, what with his reputation of being the brooding, quiet one of the gang. Still, he paused on his tracks. </p><p>     He turned the other way around, and headed towards the opposite direction of the station.</p><p>     Tokiya walked past the alley leading home, and further down the main road, as if compelled by a force. </p><p>     He glanced at every businesses and recreational sites he strolled past; from the family-owned restaurants and shops selling bento boxes; the pachinko parlors, playground and electronic shops; houses green with abundance of potted plants and rental apartments much like his own; to the small seafood shops, fruit stalls and butchers he’d never go to, perpetually stuck with the convenience of grocery store-sold items that would usually require less one-to-one communication.</p><p>     Overhead, the streak of orange across the pale blue winter sky had deepened, the transition color stark. </p><p>     Tokiya stopped when he saw the shade reflected once more as little clusters of soft velvety petals beside him. </p><p>     How curious, he’d never seen orange roses in person before.</p><p>     The small flower shop that caught his attention, Ittoki-ya, had a whole display of roses almost every shade of the rainbow packed in a tasteful bouquet rack alongside a collection of carnations and peonies. Gerberas and pansies in pots and carrier buckets ladened the ground surrounding the showcase rack and windows, as vibrant as the painted walls of the shop that stood out against the mostly pale and earthy palette of the neighborhood. </p><p>     Tokiya moved closer to observe the bunches, hesitantly eyeing the displays at the window as well. Flower bouquets and stands samples for every occasion were pleasantly arranged in romantic palettes and the shop’s signature bright colors.</p><p>     Next to the cheery arrangements in the far corner, however, was what seemed to be a peculiar ikebana piece. From the dark, square-based vase, two red spider lilies sprouted, long stamens entangled together. The red was aggressively bold and striking against a backdrop of black thin branches and large dark leaves he couldn’t quite name, bent in a way that made them look like they were swept by the wind; or reaching desperately for something off-frame; or crawling their way out of the vase — a contrast to the undisturbed lycoris. Sparse bundles of baby’s breath framed the spider lilies and trailed down from the tips of their petals like falling stars. Or shed tears.</p><p>     The arrangement bothered him, more personally than it probably should. What an inappropriately gloomy piece for such an establishment. He frowned without realizing it.</p><p>     But it was memorable, nonetheless. </p><p>     Tokiya considered the present option. There wasn’t a doubt in mind that Ai wouldn’t like flowers, as for Natsuki…</p><p>     He took out his phone. Some quick Google searches, and he’d probably find one of the fictional idols Natsuki liked whose birthday is close by. Tokiya could ask for a bouquet with the character’s image color for celebration pictures to post online or something. Oh, he would get a kick out of that.</p><p>     ...And he was right; he found one immediately. That settled it, then. He felt certain about the choice.</p><p>     He swung the door open with the soft chime of a bell.</p><p>     Everything seemed to move in bullet time.</p><p>     Tokiya was stepping into a pocket dimension, like barging in on a secret oasis. In the limited space of the shop, petals and greeneries of every kind he could imagine occupied every corner; perched on wall racks, potted in shelves, hanging from the ceilings, placed visibly through the glass door of a fridge, and supported in elaborate brass stands. The flowers make up a solar system. All heads were turned towards the sun at the heart of it all, in the form of a man with dark skin and fiery crimson hair, and a set of impossibly even redder eyes. He was cradling a batch of white anemones like it was a newborn and he was the doting caretaker for the field of lost souls.</p><p>     It was as if they would’ve forever continued to contently orbit as they were if it weren’t for Tokiya disturbing the sacred space. </p><p>     He was smearing a beautiful oil painting, a moment captured in time. Those red eyes bore to his, and in a millisecond, they aged. Like a lifetime was flashing before them, years of pain and melancholy running past in the speed of light. Now the bright soul living within arose jaded from the things they’d seen, the things they’d experienced. The flowers sensed the change as clear as day, and everything shifted. </p><p>     They no longer made up a solar system, but a protective nest. </p><p>     To Tokiya then, it was like being inside the belly of a beast, every petal within vicinity moving together as one organism. Swallowing him, leading him to the epicenter. </p><p>     He didn’t refuse.</p><p>     He was already drawn.</p><p>     Decades seemed to pass with every loud beating thrum in his ears he barely recognized as his own pulse. The heart of the nest then did the most outrageous thing to ground him back.</p><p>     He simply smiled, sweet and untainted.</p><p>     “Welcome!” His high voice chirped, with all the warmth and clarity of a pleasant morning sunbeam slipping between the window shutters back home. Tokiya almost jumped at the surprising contrast of energy; any semblance of safeguard the man had built around himself was gone, replaced with the expected friendly professionalism of a shop attendee. “Is there anything I can help you with?”</p><p>     It took him embarrassingly too long to realize he was talking to him, despite the otherwise empty shop.</p><p>     “...That’s right, I…” Tokiya couldn’t maintain the eye contact, feeling like he was staring directly at a solar eclipse, and resorted to looking down at his grocery bag. “...Ah… Do you take custom bouquets?”</p><p>     “Sure do! Wait just a second, please! I’m almost done!” </p><p>     Tokiya stood awkwardly, pretending to be all too interested in the display of pink camellia flowers from the rack, stealing only the occasional glances. The man was currently occupied on neatly wrapping the anemone bouquet in crepe paper, offering Tokiya nothing but the sight of his handsome side profile, a faint hum of a familiar commercial jingle, and the sound of clear tape being repeatedly stretched and cut from its dispenser. Though, despite what should have been a mundane atmosphere in an ordinary neighborhood establishment, he felt an indescribable sadness when he looked at him. </p><p>     Tokiya brushed it off as seasonal depression as he continued to watch him from the corner of his eyes.</p><p>     He looked away too late when the florist turned back, and their gazes met once more, making Tokiya’s face startle with a creeping flush. He cleared his throat in forced nonchalance while the man beamed.</p><p>     “Thank you for waiting! So what’s the occasion?” The florist asked, taking out a small notebook and a pen from under the table. The anemones were labeled for pick-up and set aside in an empty vase on the corner of the surface, overseeing their exchange.</p><p>     “...Birthday,” Tokiya said, surely recalling Natsuki and his 2D men fixations. It was not a lie at all, technically.</p><p>     “How sweet! And what is your price range? It is for the estimate in design.”</p><p>     “I’m not sure.”</p><p>     “The small birthday bouquets range from ¥2,000 to ¥4,000,” The florist offered innocently. Oh, he definitely already knew this song and dance. “It can vary based on how many different kinds of flowers you would like in it!”</p><p>     “Ah. Around ¥3,000, then, perhaps,” That did not make him sound like too much of a cheapskate, did it? He couldn’t justify spending more for a small bouquet decided by mere impulse, however cute the man selling it is.</p><p>     “Noted! Any flower you have in mind?”</p><p>     “I don’t know much. Just… Something purple, if possible.”</p><p>     The florist laughed like what he said was even remotely funny, voice ringing like the chiming bells of the shop. Tokiya found himself strangely enchanted. </p><p>     “Of course it’s possible! We have plenty of purples!” </p><p>     The florist stepped out of his counter with his notebook in hand and over to the shelves of display as if to emphasize his point, bouncing steps light as air, he might as well be floating.</p><p>     “How about this, then…”</p><p>     The man’s hand idly wandered over the menagerie of showboating colors, occasionally brushing their freshly-misted petals with the gentlest fingers, dewdrops catching light and gleaming like pearls in the afternoon sun. Tokiya half expected him to pick one up and place it right behind his ear. A beautiful flower befitting for a beautiful man.</p><p>     “Is there a certain message you wanna say instead? Or a certain meaning?”</p><p>     “...Not particularly,” He managed. There was no chance in hell his two roommates would just happen to know flower language. Ai might look them up if he was so curious, but Tokiya knew even then that he wouldn’t have taken it seriously. “I’ll leave it up to you.”</p><p>     “Wow, what an honor! I will do my best!”</p><p>     “Ah, but they are for a friend, so…”</p><p>     The florist giggled. “Oh, I understand. Nothing so romantic, is it?”</p><p>     “Yes,” Tokiya’s face flushed. This was all so strange. He couldn’t possibly fancy this florist for real. Having random crushes on people in public he barely knew (let alone a retail worker just doing their job) had never been an occurrence to him. Sure, he considered the man attractive, but... </p><p>     He felt like he had forgotten something.</p><p>     Tokiya patted down every pocket on his person compulsively for his wallet and phone, the grocery bag crinkling obnoxiously loud as it swung in his hand. That was not it.</p><p>     The florist scribbled something onto his notebook as he mulled over his collection, then turned to him with wide eyes. “Oh, silly me, I’ve almost forgotten— when will this need to be finished? Depending on the date, I should be able to order in the flowers we don’t have in our stock if you would like a more extensive selection!”</p><p>     “I don’t think that will be necessary… Especially not if it’ll be too much trouble.”</p><p>     “No trouble at all! It’s what I’m here for,” The florist said. “After everything is settled, the fastest I could get it done is in thirty minutes, that is, um. If you’re willing to wait… Otherwise you can come pick it up tomorrow! I should be here until eight.”</p><p>     He had offered this last piece of information almost with hesitant anticipation, fidgeting with the string of his green apron. </p><p>     Tokiya swallowed, considering it. He will either be spending an extra 30 minutes with this person, or to see him the next day. If everything was said and done today, will that be just the end of it?</p><p>     “...I can pick it up tomorrow,” He settled. “After five.”</p><p>     “I’ll be waiting.”</p><p>     From the relief in his voice, Tokiya knew that he really meant it.</p><p>     “Would you come join me, please?” The florist called without looking, attention fixated between the scribbles on his notes and the displays on the walls. Tokiya took tentative steps towards him and peered over his shoulder within courteous distance to see what he’d been writing. Rough drawings of bouquet designs and bullet-point list of flowery candidates littered the yellow pages.</p><p>     “There’s a lot of things we need to consider!” He said. The florist then proceeded to give Tokiya a passionate lecture on various meanings one can derive from a single kind of flower, what with the ones found in Victorian flower language, to the Japanese hanakotoba, to Buddhist symbolisms, and to other cultural interpretations as well. It really was more complicated than he expected. To some species, meanings can even shift based on details as minute as color, as the man had stressed.</p><p>     “Since there are so many ways this could go, I like going forth with my own intuition as well! Sometimes they just happen to click into place, don’t you think? Oh, I will still run them by you, of course.”</p><p>     “That’s fine. I trust in your craft.”</p><p>     When the man grinned, sunflowers could bloom.</p><p>     “Let’s see… Roses are a bit of a signature for my bouquets… Popular folks in high demand, those little guys! Everybody loves them!”</p><p>     He gestured to the batch of roses in the shade of lavender to his right. </p><p>     “Purple roses,” his eyes bore to Tokiya, and he swore he could almost feel it physically, like a soft caress trailing down the side of his face. <em>“Love at first sight.”</em></p><p>     Tokiya blushed, turning his head away. “Th-That might be—”</p><p>     “No?” The florist giggled. “They can also mean general love and adoration. And the color purple always has some association to royalty.”</p><p>     Before Tokiya could even respond to the suggestion, the man had moved on, attention shifting from flowers to flowers. This time, he was no longer looking at him, going down his list in rapid bursts. </p><p>     “Pansies don’t usually go in bouquets — at least not the conventional ones I’ve made — but they’re so sweet to look at! The purples mean, <em>‘you occupy my thoughts.’</em> Won’t that be a nice message for a friend? You went out of your way to order flowers, after all. Purple chrysanthemums are specifically a wish to get well, but chrysanthemums in general means optimism and happiness. Ooh! Peonies are definitely showstoppers! The purple ones can be controversial, though. But irises means many positive things, like friendship! And then…”</p><p>     Tokiya watched him at a loss of words, in a mixture of amusement, awe and bafflement. He didn’t quite digest half the things the man said, but his attention remained enthusiastically rapt. Tokiya felt like this conversation might as well last until the morning, and he still wouldn’t notice the flurry of time passing.</p><p>     “...The purple hyacinth…”</p><p>     There was an unmistakable weight as his words faltered, and his hand lowered just the slightest.</p><p>     Then once more, the florist glanced at Tokiya from the corner of his eyes; and even with the friendly smile on his boyish features, his red gaze was as sharp as the prickle of rose bushes. </p><p>     Tokiya held his breath abruptly.</p><p>     The florist turned away abruptly, took a few samples off the displays, and sauntered back towards the counter. “I think I have a good idea for it now.”</p><p>     Taking his place behind the desk, the florist smiled expectantly and gestured for him to pull out a chair, though his gaze did not quite meet Tokiya’s. Tokiya followed suit and did his best to pretend like he wasn’t aware of the tension. </p><p>     “Well then!” The florist splayed his notebook pages over the desk. “Here are my final suggestions.”</p><p>     Their next exchanges unfolded indifferently and as predictable as it could possibly have gone. Gone was the secret glances and coy comments Tokiya was embarrassed to admit could be flirting, as the florist simply showed him his sketched-out bouquet designs, holding up the flowers he meant to use and asking Tokiya what sort of paper and ribbon he’d like it to be wrapped in. Tokiya had paid for his order at some point, placing the cash on the small silver tray on the table without so much as another word.</p><p>     “Oh, do fill this out, please, thank you very much.”</p><p>     When Tokiya took the form and pen from him, it was his turn to hesitate. He felt almost wary, somehow, to readily write out the characters of his name just like that. Even though he was not of Shinto, or at least, he did not consider himself one since he converted to Judaism, he still feared that it would be practically like serving his name on a silver platter to a name-stealing kami. That the second he handed it out to the beauty in front of him, it would ensure they are bound together, and that Tokiya would be under his thrall by nothing but a simple call of his name.</p><p>     As if he hadn’t been already.</p><p>     He pushed the paper back the second the last stroke was written before his unreasonable instinct could take it back. Tokiya didn’t miss the way the corner of the man’s lips twitched up in pleasure when he read it over, much unlike the scripted professional ones he had been giving the past couple of minutes.</p><p>     “Ichinose Tokiya-san,” He had tested out the name on his tongue with a lilt of satisfaction, like it was all the moment had been building up to.</p><p>     For the first time in a while, their met gazes sparked something that made Tokiya’s heart rate pick up. The man’s grin seemed to widen as he offered an equivalent exchange to the name Tokiya had given up, a crack in a dark overcast letting heavenly sunlight slip through.</p><p>     “I’m Ittoki Otoya!”</p><p>     And when Tokiya arrived back home and unloaded everything on the kitchen counter in front of Ai, he felt like he had just run an entire marathon, nerves alert and elevated. </p><p>     “Oh good, you bought the sour cream,” His roommate commented, quickly gathering the tub into his hand before Natsuki could wake up and catch a glimpse of it. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Tokiya, however. “So what took you so long?”</p><p>     “...I took a detour.”</p><p>     “Huh, that’s so unlike you. I’m glad you’re having fun, though,” Ai said, completely oblivious that Tokiya’s mind was elsewhere. “Now wash your hands and help me with these potatoes.”</p><p>     He remained oblivious when, during the night, Tokiya set aside a couple of the latkes Natsuki had fried for tomorrow into a separate tupperware.</p><p> </p><p>♦ ♦ ♦</p><p> </p><p>          <strong>[unknown number] (09:16):</strong> Good morning Ichinose-san, this is Ittoki from Ittoki-ya flower shop. I attached an update photo of the bouquet, do let me know if you would like any changes made before you pick them up!<br/>
          <strong>[unknown number] (09:16):</strong> image.jpg<br/>
          <strong>Ichinose Tokiya (09:31):</strong> It looks great, thank you. I should be able to pick them up around half past five to six this afternoon.<br/>
          <strong>Ittoki Otoya (09:33):</strong> Thank you! I will be here!</p><p> </p><p>♦ ♦ ♦</p><p> </p><p>     Tokiya had scoured his brain for excuses to continuously visit the flower shop since then.</p><p>     The first time he returned was when he picked up the custom bouquet as promised. For what was marketed as a small arrangement, it still packed quite a punch. Made up primarily of purple roses that reminded him of lilac clouds at the soft light of dawn, they are bundled together with strategically placed irises as an outer transition hue, and speckled stars of baby’s breath that made them look all the more like the winter sky in the early waking hours of the morning. The bouquet was crowned together by white and purple crepe paper and mesh, edges cut and molded to look like the intricate pattern of laces, tied together by a sheer golden ribbon that glittered in the right angle. </p><p>     It was so much more beautiful in person than in the photo. He almost couldn’t believe he helped in making the final decisions for the design. </p><p>     “I could throw in a greeting card too, if you’d like!” Otoya said that day, in that pleasant ringing-bell voice of his. He looked handsome today too, Tokiya internally noted. And the shop as well, was still intact and beautiful — seemingly untouched, even — in its visual cacophony of vibrant petals. He didn’t know why, but he half expected them to just disappear from the streets into thin air, never to be seen again, like the whole thing had just been something he had elaborately dreamed up despite the proof in his text messages.</p><p>     Really, the only thing that had changed was a display of red spider lilies in a thin vase that now sat on the counter, replacing the white anemones from yesterday.</p><p>     “It’s perfect,” Tokiya replied, stupidly and without thinking, not quite answering his suggestion. “Um… Here you are. It’s, ah, for you.”</p><p>     He placed the lunchbox carefully on the counter, wrapped in a patterned dusty blue carrying cloth. He was almost tempted to take it back, only now on second thought realizing that gifting a shop attendee you had only known yesterday some share of your food may be a bit… Unusual. </p><p>     But Otoya’s face lit up nonetheless, and he undid the securing knot at the top. “Woah! You’re too kind! What could this be?”</p><p>     “My roommates made latkes.”</p><p>     “I’ve never had one!” He enthused, rubbing his hands with sanitizer and picking one up. He stopped himself to throw a sheepish smile in Tokiya’s direction. “Excuse me, I hope you don’t mind.”</p><p>     “No, go on ahead.”</p><p>     “Thank you for the food!” </p><p>     Taking a bite, Otoya’s expression brightened even further, if that was even possible. Any more and Tokiya might have to put on a hat. “This is really good! Your roommates must be some great cooks!”</p><p>     “...Sure,” Tokiya said, as if the three of them do not eat the majority of their diet on ready-made convenience store meals. His attention was glued on the way Otoya was scarfing down the latkes, and he had to briefly wonder if Otoya even took adequate meal breaks throughout the day. “I... Wanted to thank you for being patient in putting together this gift. It means a lot. And the work you put out is wonderful.”</p><p>     “You flatter me!” Otoya’s brown cheeks were tinted with pink as he chuckled, grabbing a tissue from under the desk to wipe the grease off his fingers. “I’m just doing my job, but I’m glad you like it so much. I hope your friend likes it too!”</p><p>     “I don’t doubt it,” Tokiya said, his thumb finding its way to mindlessly caress the rose petals among the bunches.</p><p>     Love at first sight.</p><p>     When he looked back up, Otoya had on a shy, expectant smile.</p><p>     Braver men than him would’ve asked Otoya out for a meal by now, perhaps.</p><p>     Tokiya cleared his throat, looking down onto the floor. “I should get going.”</p><p>     “Right! Of course. I’m sure you and your roommate have some celebrating to do tonight, after all,” Otoya gave the calendar next to the vase of lycoris a fleeting glance. “I’ll be sure to wash your box if you would, um, pick them up tomorrow?”</p><p>     “You don’t have to do that,” Tokiya said, and then added on before Otoya could mistook what he meant. “But I’ll be here. Tomorrow.”</p><p>     “That would be nice.”</p><p>     The sun had gone down, and yet right then, Tokiya felt its unmistakable ray of warmth beaming down at him. </p><p>     “Thank you for your hard work,” He gave a shallow bow, turning to leave before any infatuated impulse could overtake his senses.</p><p>     “Thank you very much! Ah—” Otoya called out, his ringing voice an ensemble with the chime of the door bell. “—Hanukkah Sameach!”</p><p>     He barely managed the pronunciation, but Tokiya smiled brightly back all the same. </p><p> </p><p>♦ ♦ ♦</p><p> </p><p>     The second time Tokiya returned was under the measly excuse of retrieving the lent, now-clean tupperware box they both were probably aware hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things.</p><p>     Though nevermind that, he was already coming up with more reasons to return to Ittoki-ya by the time he stepped back in. Ai and Natsuki had loved the gift, he was sure, even though they hadn’t verbally expressed it. Ai especially would have forgiven him to return and buy him a single stem of flower to spruce up the house every now and then.</p><p>     “I feel like a mom,” He had said the previous night upon receiving the bouquet, unable to keep his hands to himself, constantly running his fingers through the velvety petals in barely-contained giddiness. Natsuki had to swat his hand off so he could take pictures for his socials, a miniature decorated birthday cake Tokiya didn’t know he had been stashing for the occasion placed in front of the glass jar the flowers were perched in. The bouquet had not been taken out of its wrappers (and whatever cotton-like structure found inside that was sustaining water for it) yet, with Ai claiming the presentation was still too beautiful to be taken apart.</p><p>     “You could have bought one of those pre-made ones from the supermarket, you know.”</p><p>     “Yeah, seriously, when did you become such a romantic?” Natsuki had teased him in amusement. Tokiya pretended he wasn’t listening, acting like practicing his dreidel spins was keeping him busy. </p><p>     And now, as if playing right into Natsuki’s words, he was relishing in the few scarce exchanges of polite words shared between him and Otoya like a lovesick fool. </p><p>     By his third return, a few days later, he found out belatedly that there was no use counting to begin with.</p><p>     “Ichinose-san,” Otoya spoke, wrapping the white lily Tokiya was purchasing that day in a cone of plastic. He didn’t need to look up to know that Tokiya was hanging onto his every word. “You don’t have to buy something every time you come here, you know.”</p><p>     That, of course, had made Tokiya flinch in surprise. Both of them knew he wasn’t particularly trying to hide it, but to bring his efforts so bluntly into the light just like that still felt like a jarring thing to do. He had thought of it as an unspoken agreement, but apparently, it was not.</p><p>     “You can come visit whenever you like,” the florist continued. “You don’t even need a reason. I enjoy your company as is! I would love to see you around more often...”</p><p>     Otoya’s face reddened then, under his smile, like someone who had just spent too long soaking in the sun. Ironic, considering Tokiya was certain that Otoya was the sun.</p><p>     “...If you would have me,” Tokiya breathed out, something caught in his throat.</p><p>     If Tokiya had been a passing, obstructing comet in his orbit before, that day officially solidified him as Otoya’s satellite. </p><p>     And it was a strange premise, but Tokiya held onto his promise nonetheless. A part of him was still afraid to turn that corner towards the opposite direction of the station and walk straight ahead only to find the shop gone, spirited away, like a reality he was never meant to stumble across in the first place. Yet day after day, it stood where he left it, with its cavern of flashy colors and sickly-sweet perfume. Like a patient lover in await welcoming him after a long day. Or a pitcher plant attracting a meek fly, the infatuated man, he.</p><p>     The flower shop, almost like a living, breathing sentience, seemed to adapt to him. Accepting him as one of their own, another celestial object in Otoya’s solar system. There was a stool beside the counter reserved just for him now, backed onto the wall at the empty space between an assembly of carnations much perkier and livelier than he ever remembered himself being. When he leaned back to observe Otoya attend to his chores while he told him about his day; or put together an arrangement with an enthusiastic narration; Tokiya could almost imagine the wall of petals turning to earth, reclaiming him and marking where he belonged.</p><p>     Though however content Tokiya was watching that marvel of a human exist on his own, Otoya was just as keen to remind him it was mutual. Tokiya would now and then assist him in sweeping the floor, checking soil pH and misting the flowers, moments in which he had caught Otoya having his own fill of longing stares, frequent enough to be flattering.</p><p>     Tokiya almost dared to admit it was all very domestic. When he visited right after work, he would bring meals for both of them, either Otoya’s favorite raisin bread from the nearby bakery; or pre-made bento of Otoya’s preference he had come to learn; or leftovers in good condition his manager had set aside for him every other day, because she was apparently always concerned of how “pale” and “hungry” he looked (when really, that was just how his face is). When it was quiet hours, they would eat at the counter, Otoya leading a conversation about overpriced seafood they fantasize having but would never actually purchase; and when there was a customer, Tokiya would wait out back inside the confines of Otoya’s very humble yet practical greenhouse until they left and he was finally free to join him. </p><p>     It’d feel almost like a picnic date, where they were surrounded by the smell of wet earth and honeysuckle, sipping hot tea served by the shop’s water boiler in their little miniature garden.</p><p>     But even after weeks, they still hadn’t been on an actual date yet. They didn’t even bring up what to call… All this. When Tokiya accompanied Otoya until closing time every single day, helping him pull down the curtains, bringing the pots back in and lock up, he wouldn’t voice it into existence, no matter how desperately the question was clawing in his throat. He’d walk Otoya to the station under the streetlights, waving him goodbye at the ticket gates — and that was always the end of the night.</p><p>     He knew neither Ai nor Natsuki would understand if he were to tell them he was afraid the spell might be broken if either of them did anything drastic, when his roommates would bark out a laugh or smirk knowingly, asking him, “When are you going to introduce us?”</p><p>     Even with Otoya’s apparent popularity, that intimidation of change was still holding Tokiya back. There were regulars he was sure — not to discredit Otoya’s craft — were only regulars because they admired the florist in one way or another. Tokiya couldn’t blame them, and related too much to even be jealous, but Otoya himself paid them absolutely no mind outside of his professionalism. If anything, it was almost embarrassing how he would deliberately look Tokiya’s way expectantly when one of them was striking up a conversation more prolonged than necessary.</p><p>     Gradually, the admirers seemed to have winded down thanks to Tokiya’s effortless brooding in the corner, though he wasn’t sure if Otoya meant for that to happen.</p><p>     He remained popular with the everyday regulars, of course. The housewives who came in with their children to purchase something to decorate the house; the men who ran in to buy a last-minute bouquet for their lovers; arrangement orders for events at least a month in advance; and the people from around the neighborhood, occasionally coming in just to say hi to the kind and cheerful florist down the block.</p><p>     They have started to recognize him as well, Tokiya realized. If the more frequent head bows from across the train seats and supermarket, and the elderly ladies striking up small conversations with him on the streets were anything to go by. They’d grin from ear to ear and ask him, “How is Otoya-kun?” as if they hadn’t just visited very recently. In fact, it wasn’t seldom that he’d walk into the shop seeing them share a laugh with a blushing Otoya, nudging him cheekily and throwing unsubtle over-the-shoulder glances back at Tokiya. </p><p>     “They seem to like you,” Otoya had answered when Tokiya asked him what they had been talking about the moment the women left, restless hands rearranging the vase of red spider lilies on the counter. They had seemed to increase everyday in volume, nagging like a second morning alarm ring.</p><p>     Tokiya looked out the front windows of the shop as if he expected somebody to be scrutinizing their relationship for them through the glass right then. </p><p>     “You don’t think they—“</p><p>     “Hm?” </p><p>     From this angle, Tokiya missed his expression, unable to stare at anything but his broad back and the vague movements of his shoulder blades through the drape of his shirt. Otoya’s hands hesitated for just a millisecond, but he could have imagined it.</p><p>     “…It’s nothing.”</p><p>     The state of their relationship was as much of a hush tropic as their individual lives. He’d always known, and yet it still surprised him when one afternoon, as he was chewing on his takeout yakitori in Otoya’s backroom greenhouse, he overheard one of his familiar customers ask him how his brother’s condition was doing.</p><p>     “Ittoki.”</p><p>     Tokiya hoped his looks had remained nonchalant when he leaned against the doorway with one arm, telling him, “Your rice is getting cold,” once the visitor took their leave and the shop was on its way being tidied up for the day.</p><p>     “I’ll be right there,” Otoya replied, tending to the bouquets in the refrigerator. </p><p>     Tokiya brought the paper lunchbox to him instead, placing them on the counter with its disposable chopstick. He took his usual spot on the stool against the wall, and recited what he was about to say over and over in his head.</p><p>     “I didn’t know you have a brother.”</p><p>     “I guess it never came up,” Otoya said. His tone and expression were still relaxed, but Tokiya watched him closely just to be sure. “Sorry, would you have preferred it if I told you?”</p><p>     “...No, that’s… You’re entitled to your own privacy.”</p><p>     “I already do tell my brother about you, you know?” Otoya chuckled, closing the fridge door and taking his seat. His words came a bit hesitantly. “Reiji-nii is eight years above me. He’s ill and works from home. He used to help me around the shop, and oh, you should have seen the wreaths he’d make! I can never compare!”</p><p>     “I see,” Tokiya said. “You must care a great deal about him.”</p><p>     “Of course!” Otoya nodded. “It… Haven’t always been perfect between us. Relationship-wise. We both make mistakes; I suppose that is just how bonds work, realistically... but at least I know that he’s trying his best.”</p><p>     His gaze was downcast on his hands folded on the table’s surface, a single finger tapping anxiously. If he had wanted to know Tokiya’s story in turn, he didn’t prompt for it. </p><p>     “I can understand that,” Tokiya finally spoke. He felt the skin on his hands tingle as Otoya’s continued to drum, craving the contact. “Ai and Natsuki— I-I mean, my roommates… They are pretty much my only family. It’s not always easy. But it’s them.”</p><p>     Under the slight bow of his head, Otoya smiled. “That’s nice. How did you guys met?”</p><p>     “We were in foster together.”</p><p>     “Oh,” Otoya said. “Well, I’m glad you have them.”</p><p>     “I’m glad you have your brother.”</p><p>     “He’s all I have,” He agreed. “Especially since…”</p><p>     Something hung in the air, settling down every living being within radius with nothing but a pressed finger against a pair of nonexistent lips and the quietest ghost of a shush. Tokiya became hyper-aware of the untouched takeout box, the way Otoya’s attention strayed towards the silently taunting spider lilies while his hands stopped moving.</p><p>     “You have me, too,” Tokiya blurted out before the long spindly stamens could mock him as well.</p><p>     Otoya’s head snapped up, his already large eyes widening in surprise. Then he looked down, down… At Tokiya’s hands atop his. </p><p>     Tokiya moved to frantically retract his hands back, feeling heat creeping up his neck.</p><p>     “Sorry, I—”</p><p>     Otoya was quicker to clasp his hands and pull them back, barely pressed against the spot on his chest over his heart.</p><p>     “No, please,” He spoke. Otoya’s eyes were sparklers in a heated summer nighttime by the ocean. His enamored gaze was fixed at Tokiya as if he had just named one of the stars in that humid night after him. Even though not one of them could ever compare to the living beacon that was Otoya. “And you have me, as well!”</p><p>     With their joined hands, Tokiya felt like he was meeting Otoya at the center of the universe. </p><p>     “...Would that be fine?”</p><p>     “Why wouldn’t it?”</p><p>     At this proximity, the sun was too warm, overwhelming.</p><p>     It was perfect.</p><p> </p><p>♦ ♦ ♦</p><p> </p><p>     Even when he learned to love in new, different ways, the universe wasn’t done with him.</p><p>     Jinguji Ren was a special case amongst Ittoki-ya’s regulars.</p><p>     Special case, as in he didn’t belong to either categories of “meddling admirer” or “friendly neighborhood visitor.” He was meddling, sure — undoubtedly so, even, but his undivided attention for Otoya had seemed to closely resemble an overbearing family member more than anything. Although Otoya’s actual brother was never at the shop to give Tokiya the disapproving side-eyed sneer from where he was perpetually seated on the stool like a moody gargoyle, Ren sure was enthusiastic to take on the vacant role. And second, Tokiya heard from Otoya himself — when he was telling him to get along with the older man — that Ren didn’t live nearby (and thus have no business being here, Tokiya thought), but rather went out of his way troubling himself with additional commuting after his shift in Shinjuku just to visit.</p><p>     “Otoya, my sweet boy!” He’d say in his bellowing voice. He was always entering the premise in the loudest manner possible, arms splayed open and strides wide like he owned the place. Ren’s glance never wandered to Tokiya even for a split second unless he came up and Otoya himself was addressing him, and today was not any different. </p><p>     The florist gave him a sheepish smile in return of his million dollar-value grin. </p><p>     “How are you doing this fine day?” </p><p>     “I’m doing alright! How was work, Jinguji-san?”</p><p>     “Oh, you know how it is,” Does he really? Ren only ever spoke confidently, yet vaguely about his job, like the thought of admitting anything in his life was any less than perfect was unbearable. “Can I have my usual?”</p><p>     Ren always, always asked for “his usual” like this was a freaking coffee shop. It entailed a single boring red rose, occasionally orange if he was feeling oh-so adventurous. </p><p>     Tokiya should be more appreciative of Ren, he supposed. He meant well, if one were to squint. Otoya was too modest of a person to accept material gifts or cash as a generous gesture, so he knew slipping in aid in the form of frequently yet pointlessly buying his services was the only way Ren was able to do something nice for him. </p><p>     It was a little patronizing, but Tokiya felt useless in comparison, so it probably wasn’t his place to voice the complaint. Indeed — he couldn’t help financially as willy-nilly, but at least Ren was loaded enough to. Tokiya suspected he would never come to learn of what Ren’s deal was nor what his work exactly involved, but judging from the glimpse of a perfectly tailored suit under his long trench coat, it definitely must have paid better than his own job as a pizza parlor cashier. </p><p>     (The man probably realized it as well the day he first saw Tokiya at the shop and glared expectantly, waiting for him to either contribute and purchase something himself or scram.)</p><p>     Otoya complied to his order every single time, albeit reluctantly. Sooner or later, he’d have to muster up enough grit to tell Ren to quit it, or Ren would have to read the room already.</p><p>     “Give me a second,” Otoya said, stepping out of the counter to do his job. Tokiya noticed it wasn’t that he indicated clear upset on his actions, but they became just slightly robotic, moving on autopilot.</p><p>     Ren was resting his weight by just a single arm propped against the counter. When he whistled casually, Tokiya already knew he was about to be annoying. </p><p>     “So how’s Reiji doing?”</p><p>     “He’s fine,” Otoya replied carefully, trimming a small bottom section of the stem off the thornless rose.</p><p>     Ren snorted. “He’s still just sleeping all day?”</p><p>     “He’s adjusting to his new medications,” His response curt. Otoya spared a glance over Tokiya’s way, but was as quick to look away. “Jinguji-san, can we—”</p><p>     “Hah! Since you’re closing up shop and moving because of him, you’d think he’d help around more!”</p><p>     Tokiya’s jaw went slack.</p><p>     <em>“Jinguji-san!”</em> </p><p>     “What?” Ren huffed. “I’m just telling it like it is.”</p><p>     “You’re way out of line,” Otoya muttered, with venom in his voice and a deep furrow of his brows. He shoved the now-wrapped flower — the fastest Tokiya had seen it been done — into Ren’s hands, patience already out the window. “Here, just... Take this. I don’t want to see you right now.”</p><p>     “But—”</p><p>     For all the obliviousness Ren always seemed to possess regarding Otoya’s forced polite exchanges, he was thankfully sane enough to recognize when a glower was directed at him. His lips pressed into a tight line, and with a slight narrow of his eyes Tokiya hoped to be an indication of regret, Ren took his leave, the tail of his coat flapping behind him as the lone bell chimed farewell.</p><p>     Otoya let out a long sigh as soon as Ren’s silhouette disappeared from the window, and ran a hand through his already charmingly messy hair. </p><p>     “Sorry,” Tokiya said, because he didn’t know what else could break the silence. Although on second take, what was he even saying sorry for? He felt like nothing he could say would’ve made the situation easier to process. “...About Jinguji.”</p><p>     But that wasn’t all.</p><p>     Otoya glanced at him from the corner of his eyes.</p><p>     “Aren’t you going to ask for an explanation on…?”</p><p>     Tokiya sighed. “Not if it would upset you.”</p><p>     “Upset me?” Otoya laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I was worried it would upset <em>you!”</em></p><p>     Tokiya hummed, scooting the stool closer to the counter after the first two beats of silence, where Otoya was seated. “Maybe I still am.”</p><p>     “Well, that’s fair.”</p><p>     “You can tell me about it now.”</p><p>     “I…” He paused, and shook his head. “It's exactly as Jinguji-san said. I’m closing up shop next year, and we’re moving to live with our distant relatives. We’ve planned it for months.”</p><p>     “...Is it that far?”</p><p>     “It’s in Kyoto.”</p><p>     Tokiya’s heart plummeted.</p><p>     “So this is…” He coughed to his fist at the feeling of a lump in his throat. “Relating to your brother’s health, isn’t it?”</p><p>     A slow nod.</p><p>     “Is it to do with the medical bills?” Tokiya was already calculating how much he can pitch in from his next pay in his head, and all the upcoming ones. “Maybe I can…”</p><p>     “Please, Ichinose-san, don’t worry about it,” Otoya waved his hand dismissively. “Sure, a small flower shop doesn’t really get us very far, but that... Isn’t it, exactly.”</p><p>     “Then…”</p><p>     Otoya’s fingers drummed against the table surface, before a hand went down to his pocket, and he pulled his phone out to look through it. Tokiya waited patiently for him to carry on. When he apparently found what he was looking for, he slid it out for him to take a look.</p><p>     On the screen was a picture of a younger Otoya, arms slung over a man with silver eyes and brown hair that reached down to the nape of his neck he assumed to be Reiji; and a boy about Otoya’s age bearing an uncannily large resemblance to him, the exceptions being his shorter black hair and vibrant teal eyes that stood out against his brown complexion a couple of shades darker. They all had big grins on their faces, and Otoya was carrying a graduation certificate case in one hand. </p><p>     “...I actually had another brother,” He eventually spoke up. He pointed to the boy with eyes like the shallow seas. “This is Cecil.”</p><p>     Tokiya felt himself swallowing, both in sympathy to Otoya and out of nerves. “My condolences.”</p><p>     Although Otoya had on a reminiscing smile, there was a slight frown in his expression as he looked Tokiya right in the eye. He seemed almost… Disappointed. Frustrated. Maybe confused. It was as if he couldn’t believe he needed to tell Tokiya this; like he expected Tokiya to just know he had a deceased brother. </p><p>     Tokiya’s hands silently felt for his pockets on impulse, driven by misplaced guilt, wondering if he had in fact simply forgotten something important.</p><p>     Behind Otoya, his chromatic backdrop — the entangled bodies of countless flowers once making up a beautiful peacock’s tail luring a mate was now the spread mane of an agitated lion, hair standing up in defensive intimidation, yet unwilling to make the first pounce. The tension reminded Tokiya of their first encounter back at the beginning of the month, when for a fleeting millisecond, they were two animals seizing each other up after he had stumbled into Otoya’s marked territory.</p><p>     ...When did those red spider lilies on the desk multiplied so much?</p><p>     “Reiji-nii’s conditions aren’t exactly improving,” Otoya’s voice had abruptly reminded Tokiya that they were still bound to the earth. “We discussed that it would be best if he was put under closer care. Getting a nurse was an option, but considering his mental state, and aversion to others, we’d both rather have it be me. Someone he’s more comfortable with, you know? And if I learned anything from losing Cecil…”</p><p>     A sharp intake of breath. “I’d like to stay right beside my brother every step of the way.”</p><p>     The artificial light of the room casted harsh shadows under Otoya’s features. </p><p>     “I hope you’d understand,” His voice was softening once more in uncanny contrast, like the swirling tempest of emotions had gone down, alongside the disappearing light of day. “Living with our relatives is the only way for both of us to stay out of work comfortably as is. I might… I might even take up online classes again.”</p><p>     “I do understand,” Tokiya said. And he meant it. Maybe it was very much a possibility to let both their selfishness to take the reins, for Otoya to cancel his plans and stay in town just so they could continue seeing each other. But they had their own lives, their own families who needed them, people who they couldn’t turn their back on now. </p><p>     If it was Tokiya in his situation, with Ai or Natsuki in Reiji’s place, he wouldn’t even need to think twice. And he was sure, in return, Otoya would understand his decision as well.</p><p>     “Thank you.”</p><p>     A silence of many unspoken acknowledgements followed.</p><p>     “...How long do you have?” How long do <em>we</em> have, Tokiya would have asked instead.</p><p>     “Early spring next year; winter might be tough for Reiji-nii. But I’m planning to close up shop by February.”</p><p>     Three months tops, huh.</p><p>     “It’s about two hours by shinkansen to Kyoto, isn’t it?”</p><p>     “Two and a half, yes,” Otoya confirmed, the barest glint of amusement in his eyes.</p><p>     Tokiya nodded, then averted his gaze. “I have just… One question left.”</p><p>     The florist tilted his head as a nudge to continue.</p><p>     “When were you planning to tell me?”</p><p>     This time, the guilt was noticeable on Otoya’s face. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry. I was afraid to see how you’d react.”</p><p>     “...You thought I was going to take it poorly?”</p><p>     “Not exactly? No. A part of me was afraid you’d just…” He chuckled nervously, hand going up to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’m sure this is going to sound silly, since I’m the one leaving. But I thought you might just, disappear.”</p><p>     “Disappear,” Tokiya echoed in bafflement.</p><p>     “Like you’ll decide to stop seeing me.”</p><p>     “That’s not going to happen,” It was almost embarrassing how true to word that is, even.</p><p>     A half-smile made its way across Otoya’s lips. “I know that now.”</p><p>     Tokiya blushed.</p><p>     “I was also afraid that it would… You know,” Otoya gave a one-shouldered shrug, a flush blossoming on his own cheeks. “Change what we have between us now.”</p><p>     “What we have between us…” </p><p>     Tokiya thought back to nights of them drinking tea, listening closely to Otoya’s ramblings, his dream of traveling the world, tasting all kinds of food and visiting all kinds of botanic gardens; narrating Tokiya through the informal methods he’d tried to learn amateur ikebana online — and then the stolen glances from the top rim of their cups; the brushing of fingers that lingered just a little too long when Otoya taught him flower pressing and bouquet arrangement; the unspoken declarations drowning in their tension everytime they lock up the shop wordlessly; the overwhelming temptation to grab Otoya’s hand and tell him to stay the night everytime he was about to walk through those ticket gates. </p><p>     Otoya’s eye contact was heated and expectant. “Don’t you think so too?” </p><p>     Tokiya wanted nothing more but to tuck a loose strand of Otoya’s hair behind his ears right now. Intertwine their fingers and rub soothing circles on his skin. Close the distance between them and feel his radiating heat like never before. Speak things into the universe he’d never have dared to. But Otoya had always felt so close, yet so out of his reach. The one glimpse of contact they’ve had the first time they revealed details about their lives felt like forever ago. How many years must Tokiya wait for another chance for the stars to align; how many planets must shift; for such liberal intimacy, such lust, the manifestation of his own desires?</p><p>     “...Yes,” Tokiya said, tempting a storm out of calm waters. “But wouldn’t you like some things to change as well?”</p><p>     Otoya tilted his head the other way and hummed, carefully considering the meaning in Tokiya’s words.</p><p>     “Change is scary,” He spoke. “But if it’s you…”</p><p>     The florist’s hand reached for Tokiya’s across the table. </p><p>     His was already waiting.</p><p>     “It’d be worth it, Tokiya.”</p><p>     That night, Tokiya went home with a bouquet of red tulips, on the house.</p><p>     '<em>Declaration of love.'</em></p><p> </p><p>♦ ♦ ♦</p><p> </p><p>     Like a rare desert phenomenon, building up below the coarse surface, everything seemed to bloom simultaneously all at once. </p><p>     Otoya had made himself known in Tokiya’s life like never before; leaving a permanent mark like two lovers’ carved initials on tree bark.</p><p>     There was no longer hiding the way they’d hold their eye contact, no reluctance in the way their fingers lingered if they ever so much as brushed. Tokiya still vividly recalled the first time they held hands in public, as they did their walking rounds after closing, where Otoya had slipped his hand against Tokiya’s freezing fingers inside the pocket of his jacket. </p><p>     “No one’s paying attention, Tokiya,” The florist had assured him when Tokiya’s own noisy instincts made him look around warily. Otoya had called him by name full-time now, and insisted he does the same. The way Tokiya’s heart would race like a small herbivore’s when he finally indulged him was almost pathetic. </p><p>     At least, from then on, each time either of them went for it, their fingers would interlace pleasantly.</p><p>     Otoya was also introduced to Tokiya’s roommates just the other week. Unexpectedly, too. Truly, there was no way he could foresee him just showing up at their door unannounced on Tokiya’s day off, after locking up the shop much earlier than usual to drop off a small strawberry shortcake bought from the Christmas Eve sale down the road. </p><p>     He hadn’t stayed for long with a celebration to do with Reiji that night, but was nonetheless subjected to Ai’s awed stare when he answered the door, and Natsuki’s voice obnoxiously (and deliberately) calling out, “Tokiya! Get your ass over here! Boyfriend-kun brought cake!”</p><p>     Considering neither he nor Otoya had ever mentioned the word “love,” let alone “boyfriend,” it was the first time Tokiya felt like strangling Natsuki himself.</p><p>     He was relieved when Otoya had simply looked touched.</p><p>     Tokiya was introduced to Otoya’s brother much more formally. As formal as a clear invitation to a home-cooked dinner at Ittoki residence was, with Reiji sweating in the pits and looking more nervous than both Tokiya and Otoya combined. He had gotten up from his wheelchair (ignoring Tokiya’s “Please don’t trouble yourself on my account—”) and bowed a little too many times when he uttered the words, “T-Thank you very much for taking care of my brother!” </p><p>     Reiji had been what Tokiya pretty much anticipated, down to the way he scanned him up and down and wouldn’t stop looking between him and Otoya through the meal, like he couldn’t believe his sunny younger brother was dating who must have been the saddest goth he’d ever laid his eyes on. But nonetheless still kind and polite to a fault, Tokiya could see where Otoya had gotten his manners from. </p><p>     By the end of their hearty meal, ladened with cautionary (and very parental) probing questions; as far as Tokiya could tell, Reiji had trusted him enough that he didn’t feel the need to spare a second glance back at them when he announced he would be retiring for the night. </p><p>     Otoya had reached for Tokiya’s hand across the dining table and gazed at him with all the happiness and pure bliss of a newly-wedded.</p><p>     “He likes you,” He murmured, unable to contain his smile.</p><p>     “You think so?” </p><p>     Tokiya had pretended as if the approval hadn’t soothed any doubts he was internalizing.</p><p>     Otoya snorted. “There was never any doubt.”</p><p>     A little voice in Tokiya’s head would always beg to differ, but it did not matter at the presence of the man who so wanted him to believe otherwise, that he was perfectly capable of being loved in return.</p><p>     “...I’m glad.”</p><p>     “You’ll be family in no time.”</p><p>     Tokiya imagined, a few years prior, the claim would have struck numbingly cold fear deep within his gut from its sheer unlikelihood, the entire concept alarmingly alien to him. And now, the image of the home he’ll always have to return to, like tonight — to Ai and Natsuki — along with the radiating warmth of his dearly beloved, had brought him to a state he wished could only mean contentment and acceptance.</p><p>     Comfortable silence trickled between them like the steady melting of icicles in the wake of sunlight. </p><p>     Much too soon but nonetheless inevitable, Tokiya made a glance towards the clock on the wall, and the two started getting up to clean in understanding. They gathered their dishes, with Otoya silently insisting on doing the washing while Tokiya surrendered himself to drying, taking in the warm coziness of Ittoki residence one more time. </p><p>     They hadn’t brought it up all evening, but with their remaining time being physically together so limited, Tokiya had taken every opportunity there is to surround himself with signs of Otoya’s presence gratefully. Certificates and pictures of Otoya with his old gardening club; polaroids of the brothers in various ages; get-well-soon cards and letters stacked on the shoe cabinet by the main entrance; unfolded moving boxes in the corner yet to be used; decorative arrangements from the shop placed all around the house; flower pressing materials laying about; and down the hall, beside the living room, a butsudan with Cecil’s portrait. All snippets of Otoya’s eventful life that Tokiya couldn’t ignore.</p><p>     “You seem to really like those,” Tokiya commented, patiently waiting for Otoya to finish replacing the water in the vase of red spider lilies from the dining table. </p><p>     “They’re my favorite,” Otoya replied.</p><p>     Tokiya hummed thoughtfully. </p><p>     “I think they’re beautiful,” He had said it as if he was trying to convince Tokiya to agree.</p><p>     “They are,” Tokiya said, looking at Otoya more than the flowers. </p><p>     Otoya giggled at his noncommittal tone, like he knew exactly where Tokiya’s mind had wandered off to.</p><p>     “I find them pretty poetic too, you see. With their symbolisms...”</p><p>     “I suppose you have always had a taste for the dramatics with your flowers.”</p><p>     “Oh, quit teasing me, now.”</p><p>     Tokiya drank in the sound of Otoya’s ringing laughter and the sight of his reddened cheeks like scarce water.</p><p>     “Flower of the heavens,” Otoya mused, slipping the bunches back into its vase with the sound of a little splash. “In scriptures, they say red flowers will fall from the heavens as a signal of an upcoming celebratory occasion — that’s where their title came from. They have many associations with death in legends, because they’d be planted along graves as tributes and anti-pest measures thanks to their poisonous bulbs. Their flower meanings are <em>‘passion’</em>... <em>‘Sad memory.’”</em></p><p>     “...How somber.”</p><p>     “It is, isn’t it? But I’ve come to appreciate that part about them as well. Every flower has their roles and purposes, after all. Every part of their body, every evolution they go through, every form they take… There is a reasoning behind them.”</p><p>     His fingers idly wandered through their blood-red petals. </p><p>     “...Did you know?” The florist continued. “A lycoris’ flower and leaf do not meet. While the flower is in bloom, its leaves are concealed. When the flower wilts, the leaves start to bud.”</p><p>     “So they can’t exist at the same time,” Tokiya concluded. He couldn’t bring himself to admit aloud how much he disliked how sad the thought was.</p><p>     “Exactly.”</p><p>     “...I feel like I’ve heard that one before.”</p><p>     “Really?” Otoya looked up to meet his gaze. “It’s not exactly common knowledge. Who knew you had that plant nerd in you too, huh, Tokiya?”</p><p>     Tokiya said nothing then, watching the red spider lilies closely as if it’ll come to life the second he turned away.</p><p>     “I probably shouldn’t keep you here any longer,” Otoya muttered, bringing Tokiya back from his own head. He was already making his way towards the entrance, where their coats hung. “Let’s get going before you would have to run for the last train.”</p><p>     “You don’t have to walk me to the station. I know the way—” He started saying, and then stopped himself. “...Not that I would not want to spend more time together, I mean…”</p><p>     “I know, Tokiya,” Otoya grinned. “You know I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we are, as much as possible.”</p><p>     Through the crack of the opened door, the streets were telling of the belatedness of the night. Darkness that blanketed the surroundings like skies of a dome was illuminated only by the sparse streetlights and short-ranged luminescence from people’s homes, as if drawing in negatives on black paper. Otoya’s neighborhood, lacking the number of shops lining Tokiya’s area, meant the streets were mostly deserted and then further enhanced by the cold. Early signs of snowfall decorated the untouched picture in tiny white speckles.</p><p>     “Oh! I guess we’re having snow tonight,” The florist spoke, breathing out warm air over his own hands as he stepped out of the gates of Ittoki residence.</p><p>     “You should go back in and grab a thicker jacket,” Tokiya told him, trailing behind. “While we’re still here.”</p><p>     “It’s a short walk, don’t worry! It won’t even take a minute.”</p><p>     Tokiya sighed in fond exasperation and pulled his own red scarf loose. With a gentle hand to the small of his back, he stopped Otoya on his tracks, and took the chance to settle the snug fabric around his neck. The material was so thick and large, it easily covered most of his head from the chilly evening wind like a cute makeshift hood, its tail draping over his shoulders.</p><p>     Red was always a fitting color on him, Tokiya noted to himself, as he eyed the tint of red dusting the high points of Otoya’s face.</p><p>     “How romantic,” Otoya chuckled bashfully. “But are you gonna be fine?”</p><p>     “Please,” Tokiya gave a flustered nod, pulling up the fur-trimmed hood of his own winter coat to make up for the loss of warmth. “Keep it.”</p><p>     “Are you sure?”</p><p>     “Yes. It… Suits you.”</p><p>     Otoya hummed, observing him with an indecipherable expression.</p><p>     “If you say so.”</p><p>     Tokiya expected him to move on, and lead their way towards the station, their parting lighthouse for the night. </p><p>     Instead, he simply stepped closer. Closer until they could practically share the air they breathe, their bodies pressed in a shocking feat of vulnerability. This close, Tokiya could point out every single freckle adorning the florist’s cheeks like his own favorite constellations.</p><p>     Otoya’s hands clung to the front of Tokiya’s pocket as if he feared he would disappear without his grip anchoring him.</p><p>     But Tokiya wanted nothing more to do the absolute opposite, to crawl under Otoya’s skin, make a home out of his body’s infinite warmth and become one. His arms found their way around his waist.</p><p>     Crimson flares stared into the blue depth of the sea.</p><p>     “Is it selfish of me,” Otoya spoke. “That despite knowing what has to be done, and will happen… A part of me still wishes it wouldn’t?”</p><p>     Tokiya’s lips parted. Had Otoya been dealing with these thoughts on his own?</p><p>     “I think it’s natural,” He carefully replied. “Having desires, that is.”</p><p>     Tokiya caught the sight of a small smile before Otoya buried his face in the crook of his neck.</p><p>     “You really do have mysterious powers over me,” Otoya said in a lowly chuckle.</p><p>     Tokiya let out a bemused, huffed laughter. “What’s gotten into you?—”</p><p>     “Would you stay the night if I ask you to?”</p><p>     In an instant, blood rushed to Tokiya’s face. At the same time, the heat sobered him, and his jaw went slack.</p><p>     “Otoya,” Tokiya hissed, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder. “We shouldn’t rush into these things.”</p><p>     “I’m sorry,” Otoya replied hastily, standing upright and running a hand through his face. “Y-You’re right. I’m being silly. I don’t know what’s going on with me… It’s just, with our time together being over so soon, I thought—”</p><p>     “You speak of our long-distance arrangement like we have very little means of contacting or seeing each other,” Tokiya sighed. “I will at least manage a visit for your birthday in April, and sometime in summer. If you would wait for me in return… We will have all the time in the world.”</p><p>     Otoya nodded silently, eyes casted down.</p><p>     “Of course,” The heel of his palm rubbed at dry tears. “You’re right.”</p><p>     “It will be fine,” Tokiya said, with more sincerity than he’d ever said anything in his life.</p><p>     “It will,” Otoya agreed, a forced laughter not quite making its way out his throat. “I have it bad, huh? Nothing’s ever gone easy... Sometimes I can’t help but feel like the universe is toying with me.”</p><p>     “...I’m sorry you feel that way.”</p><p>     “Don’t be.”</p><p>     Otoya took a long intake of breath. </p><p>     “I’m sure everyone feels this way at some point. I’m just being cranky,” He said, shaking his head like it will rid him of a lifetime’s worth of sadness withering him over the years. “Besides… Everything happens for a reason, be it unfortunate or not. I should learn to come into acceptance eventually. After all, it—”</p><p>     “Don’t say that.”</p><p>     Tokiya wondered what they must have looked like to the universe in that moment, two individuals bound by a force as inconceivable and human as love. For all his small existence knew, maybe they were meant to be together then, in that fleeting moment in history. After a series of elaborate course of events throughout time, the world had mercifully allowed their lives to intersect.</p><p>     A beautiful scene of a winter embrace, blanketed in the gentle drizzle of snow that far threatened a storm, an isolated space reserved just for them. A snowglobe that could very well break the second the cosmos decided to; who’s to say.</p><p>     “Even if the universe wanted to screw with us,” Tokiya was saying, Otoya’s face held between his calloused hands. “Nothing can keep me apart from you.”</p><p>     Not if he had anything to say about it. </p><p>     And then, he considered, for all his small existence knew; all along, maybe it was always a battle against all odds they’d both fought so hard for.</p><p>     When he looked at the man in front of him, there was an aching longing so raw and unadulterated, like the pierce of a knife slipping between the ribs.</p><p>     Light sparked behind Otoya’s eyes and shimmered like the brightest stars.</p><p>     He laughed. </p><p>     “I have been so wrong,” He said, the bells in his voice chiming as if it was welcoming spring. “It was not the universe that led you to me…”</p><p>     Otoya pressed his forehead against Tokiya’s.</p><p>     “...It was you.”</p><p>     Like he’d always done, Tokiya took the reins.</p><p>     He closed the distance between them, and pressed their lips together. </p><p>     The warmth blossomed like flowers awakening from their winter slumber at the first ray of sunlight. </p><p>     The universe wasn’t done with him.</p><p>     And he wasn’t done with the universe.</p><p> </p><p>♦ ♦ ♦</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">End.</span>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>※ “Cecil” being “Otoya’s” brother in this universe is based on a LycoMori theory I had where Black Hood is actually an entity made up of a cumulation of spirits that died in the forest, amongst them Blood and Graham’s siblings.<br/><br/>This was written as a very belated holiday + birthday (back in February) + Valentine's Day gift for my wonderful datefriend! It is naturally dedicated to him as well and put together with him in mind! I love you Pip!<br/><br/>Happy belated anniversary too, Lycoris no Mori! Three years is a long time, huh.<br/><br/>Thank you for reading this far! I appreciate any feedback and any corrections of my mistakes!<br/><br/>twitter: ioribbon</p></blockquote></div></div>
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